


into place

by ghosthunter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 08:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13407078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: Jakub knows that, in theory, they could all be having the best games of their lives but if the lines aren’t clicking, then, well, they’re never going to be able to string any wins together. Jakub knows the theory. Nobody gets into professional hockey without knowing that you could - and should - have someone knocking around inside your head when you’re on the ice, and sometimes even when you’re off. Jakub isn’t an expert - Ovi’s literally written academic papers about it, but Jakub doesn’t read Russian.





	into place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshinexbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/gifts).



> happy birthday to sunshinexbomb. i hope you enjoy it!

The lines just aren’t clicking.

 

Jakub knows that, in theory, they could all be having the best games of their lives but if the lines aren’t clicking, then, well, they’re never going to be able to string any wins together. Jakub knows the theory. Nobody gets into professional hockey without knowing that you could - and should - have someone knocking around inside your head when you’re on the ice, and sometimes even when you’re off. Jakub isn’t an expert - Ovi’s literally written academic papers about it, but Jakub doesn’t read Russian.

 

Besides, even if he could read Russian, he wouldn’t need to, because all he’d need to do is watch the way Ovi and Backy work together on the ice. That’s why Ovi’s played on Backy’s wing for so long - because they have clicked, do click. 

 

So - Jakub doesn’t read Russian, but he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t speak it, either, which is - well, he’s pretty sure that Kuznetsov is actively trying to drive him crazy. And maybe it would be easier if Kuznetsov <i>was</i> in his head, and then less of what Kuznetsov says to him in Russian wouldn’t be lost in translation.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t understand Russian at all - there are a lot of similarities between Russian and Czech and he understands some basics, so a lot of the time he gets the gist of it, but he doesn’t speak Russian fluently and he’s pretty sure that Kuznetsov is just fucking with him. At the very least, any time Kuzy sits down next to him on the bench and starts chattering at him in Russian, forcing him to get out of his head to concentrate on whatever Kuzy’s telling him.

 

Jakub likes Kuzy. He really does, even if he’s pretty sure that Kuzy is trying to make him crazy. They’re very different people. Jakub knows that he has a tendency to get into his feelings - and down on himself - especially after the season before, when he was up and down between Hershey and DC, and because Mann scratched him, and because, because, because. He thinks maybe hockey has a lot to do with confidence, too.

 

So: clicking with your linemates and having confidence in your ability to play the game. Check.

 

Even with Kuzy keeping him out of his head, creating a distraction that keeps him from getting too down on himself, even with other parts of the team clicking, things are not going well. Nashville beating them sucks, but it’s not a surprise. Losing to a team that went to the final the season before, and against whom you struggle anyway? Okay.

 

Jakub gets scratched for being in “participation mode,” which he pretends he understands, but doesn’t, really, and the Caps lose to Colorado. Badly. Jakub wishes he could feel glad he didn’t play in that game, but being scratched feels like shit whether the team wins or loses. The flight home after that game is a lot - Jakub keeps quiet, because he’s a rookie, so what does he know? What place does he have to say anything?

 

In his mind, he imagines Kuzy telling him it’s okay, that he’s going to be fine, that it’s just one scratch. It’s not like he’s been sent down.

 

He thinks he’s imagining it until he realizes that they’re not things he’d think himself, that it’s actually Kuzy’s voice, trying to soothe him and stop him from beating himself up over everything. What good will it do to beat himself up over this? It wasn’t his choice, he works hard, he just has to work that much harder because he has to prove himself. He didn’t get sent down, he didn’t have to play in the game where Gabe Landeskog scored his first career hat trick.

 

Jakub stands up and looks for Kuzy at the back of the plane. Kuzy grins at him.

 

“Listening to you hate yourself was going to make me crazy,” Kuzy tells him, without ever opening his mouth.

 

Jakub turns back around and sinks down into his seat. Of course he would finally click into place with his teammates after being scratched. He’s struggled up and down the last two seasons, so why not this?

 

Life is really weird sometimes.

 

Things get better. They get a lot better.

 

They start winning, and Jakub starts playing better. Something about having Kuzy there - all the time, not just on the ice - makes things easier. Jakub knows that he’s a person who gets in his head a lot. Having Kuzy there pushes him out of it, doesn’t give him the chance to really wallow in all of the mistakes that he’s made.

 

“Stop,” Kuzy tells him, one night when it’s late, and Jakub is laying in his bed, turning over and over in his head the things that he’s done wrong on a night the team’s lost. Half the time he doesn’t even bother to say it in English. Communicating like this has done wonders for Jakub’s understanding of Russian. “You can’t beat yourself up about every little thing. You have to move on.”

 

“Stop listening to me when we’re not on the ice,” Jakub says, feeling prickly. He’s generally good natured, and generally it doesn’t bother him to know that Kuzy is listening. But everyone has bad days.

 

He physically feels the connection shut off.

 

He feels bad about it immediately, and reaches for his phone. He doesn’t really know what he’d text - sorry for being an asshole, sorry for not listening when you’re just trying to be helpful, sorry - just sorry. There’s a knock on his door before he has the chance to compose or send anything.

 

Kuzy has a pack of cookies, which he holds out to Jakub. It’s a peace offering - Jakub knows that without Kuzy saying it inside his head. It’s peace, even though Jakub was the one being a dick. Kuzy cracks a joke, too, standing there with one of the cookies in his hand. Jakub understands approximately half of it - and responds in kind.

 

They both grin and Jakub steps back, letting Kuzy into the hotel room. Normally, he’d be rooming with Stephenson, but it’s still early.

 

“Look,” Kuzy says. “I like you? I’m glad that you’re in my head and we can work together because I like being around you because you’re nice.”

 

“Nice?” Jakub says. That’s a weird thing to say, he thinks.

 

“Nice,” Kuzy says. “Pleasant? Enjoyable to be around. Good at playing hockey, too, so I hate listening to you when you’re beating yourself up over something.”

 

“You never have to worry about getting scratched,” Jakub points out. He sits down on the edge of this own bed, while Kuzy perches on Steve’s. He’s gonna get crumbs in Steve’s bed, and Steve’s gonna blame it on Jakub, and it’s going to become a whole thing.

 

“It’s not going to become a whole thing,” Kuzy tells him, because oh, there he is, right back there inside Jakub’s head, familiar and kind of comforting. “So what if I don’t worry about getting scratched. I still have to play well. Still have to play hockey.”

 

Jakub reaches out and takes the packet of cookies. “It’s not the same.”

 

“When I first came to America,” Kuzy says, stretching out on his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching Jakub. “I let it get to me, you know? And I got really down on myself about it. So I wasn’t happy. So I wasn’t playing well. So I was even more unhappy.”

 

“So you decided to just let it go,” Jakub says.

 

“Once the game was over, yeah,” Kuzy says. “You can take things away that you need to work on, because there’s always something that you can work on. But you can’t keep beating yourself up over one game. Then you’ll never be happy.”

 

Jakub is quiet, turning the words over in his head. It makes sense. It goes along with what he knows about Kuznetsov - who stops him when he’s getting too into his head during games, who does things like show up to his hotel room to give him a pep talk and cookies. If he had to click into place with anyone on the team, he’s glad that it’s Kuzy.

 

Kuzy grins at him. “I’m glad too,” he says, and stands up. He tugs Jakub to his feet and hugs him, pulling him in tight. Jakub buries his face against Kuzy’s shoulder - it’s nice to be hugged, sometimes, in a non-celebratory context.

 

He leaves, and leaves the cookies with Jakub. Jakub makes sure there aren’t any crumbs in Stephenson’s bed before he climbs into his own bed.

 

“Thank you,” he thinks vaguely, half asleep reading on his phone.

 

“Anytime,” echoes back, just as he dozes off.


End file.
